


one more or one less

by i_was_human



Series: lit fic week 2020 [4]
Category: Lost in Translation (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Multi, Mutual Pining, Non-Linear Narrative, OT4, POV Alternating, POV Second Person, POV Third Person, Polyamory, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, a disgusting amount of shakespeare references, dongho's parents are pieces of work, ot4 but dongmin stole everyone's thunder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:41:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25779112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_was_human/pseuds/i_was_human
Summary: Just like love, prejudice never goes away.(dongho gets his soulmark removed, not because it exists, but because of the number.three.)
Relationships: Ahn Jaewon | Wyld/Kang Dongho | D.Min/Kim Daehyun/Lee Minsoo, Kang Dongho | D.Min/Lee Minsoo
Series: lit fic week 2020 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1882828
Comments: 4
Kudos: 37





	one more or one less

When Daehyun is eighteen, his soulmark comes as expected.

It starts at his spine and spreads up to his shoulder, and it's _so much larger_ than he's ever seen before - but even more beautiful in its own way.

Black branches, silver vines, crimson flowers and golden leaves. 

(he doesn't know how he knows, but he's the gold. call it a gut feeling. call it instinct. 

it's all the same in the end.)

His parents are proud - so, so proud (he has _three soulmates_ ) - and he's heard the horror stories of people getting kicked out of their homes for being like him, heard it all, but his parents are _so so supportive_ and _god_ , he can't be more thankful.

* * *

When Jaewon is nineteen, he doesn't even notice his soulmark is there.

It takes his mother - delivering laundry to his room - to point it out, and once she does, they race to the bathroom, his mother photographing it from every angle so he can look.

And _god_ , it's gorgeous.

A dizzying array of black-silver-red-gold sprawls from his spine to his right shoulder, and he brushes it with his fingertips a few times as if to make sure it's real. 

He knew his soulmate was younger than him when his eighteenth came and went, but he _never_ expected this.

 _Three_. Not just one. _Three_.

The prospect is astounding to him - him, whose entire world consists of him and his mom. 

Three people to love him unconditionally.

He can't even begin to fathom what that'll be like.

* * *

When Minsoo is twenty-one, he doesn't bother telling his family about his soulmark.

It happens, as so many things do, and he's _relieved_ , but not too overjoyed.

(later on, he will be - when desperation fades and idealism returns to the forefront. later on he'll stare at his soulmark in the dead of night and wonder what his partners will be like - be they strong, beautiful, or brilliant - and feel the anticipation thrum in his chest with each passing moment.)

But the day his soulmark comes is like any other, and he pays it no special heed.

After all-

he has work to do.

Dreams to chase.

People to beat.

* * *

When Dongho is twenty-two, he gets his soulmark removed.

It hurts - hurts as so many necessary things do - and his mother tells him it's _necessary_ , necessary both to be an idol and to be a CEO, and Dongho stares at the oak tree blooming on her neck and knows it isn't just that.

It's not the fact that he has a soulmate.

It's the fact that he has _three_.

His mother reassures him as they walk to the car - _you did the right thing, this is the right thing, i'm so proud of you_ \- and Dongho swallows, trying not to taste _bitter bitter bile_ in his throat.

(logically, she's right.

and dongho has always preferred logic to emotions.)

* * *

When Minsoo first meets Dongho, he's positive he's one of his soulmates.

Dongho's tall, well-built, with dark hair and a cutting gaze, and Minsoo falls for him immediately.

They're like swords - cutting each other but creating beauty as they do - and Minsoo _lets himself fall_ because Dongho has to be the branches, has to be the foundation everything else grows upon.

He broaches the topic over instant ramen one night, and Dongho stares at him, gaze _cutting cutting cutting_ like it always is, dissecting Minsoo to the core, and he replies with the words Minsoo never expected to hear.

"I don't have a soulmark."

Minsoo laughs - a bit too high, a bit too forced - and he nods, taking another bite of his ramen.

"That's just- that's funny, then. Really."

Dongho stares at him for a moment, and _god_ , Minsoo doesn't want to fight right now. He wants to be wrapped up in those branches, protected from the world, _kept safe for one single moment_.

Dongho's arms wrap around him instead.

And _oh_ , he _knows_ the markless don't feel love, _knows it_ , and that's just what makes this so much worse, isn't it?

He's fallen head-over-heels for someone who could never love him back.

(but _oh_ , he pretends, pretends the way dongho rubs his back is a sign of love and not of friendship, pretends dongho cares the way he wants him to, pretends dongho is the branches he should be and not someone forever doomed to loneliness-)

"I hope you find them," Dongho murmurs, and there's _something_ there Minsoo can't quite place, something almost _wistful_.

"I do too," he croaks, and that stupid love-sick part of his mind imagines the softness of Dongho's grasp is love and not pity.

* * *

_"This will ruin us,"_ your father tells you, rain sliding off his umbrella and streetlights shining on his gel-slick hair.

You stare at him, something desperate in your eyes, and the rain plasters your dark hair to his cheeks, a fresh wave of cold washing over you. It's cold out tonight - cold and raining - but nothing could ever be as cold as the look in his eyes.

 _"Can't I have this?"_ you beg - and it _is_ begging, because for all you've grown, you've never been able to do a thing outside of his control - and he stares at you, gaze freezing-cold and cutting.

_"You already know the answer."_

(the memory of minsoo, silver-tinted and clinging-)

_"You asked for this. You said you would do it no matter what."_

_Is pride that difficult to express?_ you wonder. _Is it so difficult to say "you've done well"?_

Then again-

pride has to be earned.

 _"Soulmates are nothing,"_ he spits, and you elect not to tell him that you know he's sleeping with the diamond-mark secretary while your mother sleeps with his best friend.

It seems almost symbiotic, this delusion.

And yet, what your parents have told you in actions:

_Soulmates are everything._

Soulmates are worth ruining marriages for, soulmates tear up pre-established relationships with an almost sadistic cruelty, soulmates are _everything_ for those who have them, and _nothing_ for those who don't.

This, Dongho understands, is the reason he's never going to fall out of love with Minsoo.

After all-

loving like this is a slippery slope.

* * *

Minsoo meets his first soulmate, and he _knows_.

(he knew with dongho too, but.)

Daehyun's gold and flame and _life_ , excitement sparking in those chocolate-brown eyes, and when he pulls off his jacket to reveal a branch spreading across his shoulder, Minsoo kisses him.

In the practice room.

In front of Dongho.

( _come what sorrow can, it cannot countervail the exchange of joy that one short minute gives me in her sight_ , dongho's voice quotes, and _oh_ , minsoo sees now.)

Daehyun's so brilliant he's blinding, so brilliant and happy and _complete_ , and feeling him _here_ makes Minsoo's heart ache a bit less.

(he's gold, he's leaves, changing, fleeting, but always returning-)

"Dongho isn't...?" Daehyun asks, question purposely open-ended, and Minsoo shakes his head, gaze flitting to the doorway.

"No."

(god, how he wishes he was.)

"But...?"

Daehyun must have thought the same, and Minsoo is at least grateful that this is one person he can save from this heart-wrenching yearning.

"He's not," Minsoo states, though the words taste bitter on his tongue.

(an ashen reminder of what is and what isn't- _this is not a fairytale_.)

Daehyun stares out the door, dark eyes blank and distant, and somehow, Minsoo can't blame him.

* * *

Jaewon is Wyld and Wyld is Jaewon and they're both _red_ \- red like roses and wine, red like blood, red like lipstick and anger and love and _desire_.

 _That_ , Daehyun decides, is why Jaewon is Wyld.

Wyld is desire and anger and revenge and _madness_ all wrapped up into one package - all put together with sharp teeth and sharper grins - and Wyld is _red_.

But red is also the color of flowers.

Red is the color of flowers and strawberries and cardinals and ladybugs, the color of sunrise, of _feeling_.

That-

that is why Wyld is Jaewon.

Because for every sensual wink, there's a softer smile, for every finely-pressed suit, there's an oversized sweater, and it's _fascinating_ how this causal paradox can exist so easily, but Daehyun doesn't question it.

Jaewon is Wyld and Wyld is Jaewon but at the same time, they're separate entirely.

It's a paradox of the sweetest kind, Daehyun decides - because in the end, the world can desire Wyld, but Jaewon is theirs alone.

Fitting.

* * *

You stare at the mess of scar tissue on your back and wonder _why does it have to be this way?_

Memory makes the heart grow fonder, and _oh_ , you can almost remember the tree - black and silver and red and gold - but it's faded to the haze of memory, lost to distant disassociation - a parasitic tree growing from your spine, and _this could ruin everything-_

 _"The best things in life are worth taking risks for,"_ your mother once said, and you know she was talking about love, there - know she was talking about soulmates - but your parents have always said to do as they say, not as they do, and thus you carve their every word into your soul, building towers made of glass and delusion.

 _"It's different for you,"_ your mother said, staring at the dizzying array of colors. _"Different-"_

Your fist meets the glass and it shatters.

Your reflection stares back at you - distorted, _wrong_ , cut in four pieces that never quite meet - and you see now that four can never be right.

Four is never right.

Your knuckles drip crimson onto the basin of your sink, and you stare down at them - the stinging barely managing to break through the comforting numbness you've wrapped yourself in.

It's not enough.

When you look back in the mirror, you do not see someone strong. You do not see the man who's worked to get where he is, nor the man who builds walls of brick and mortar to keep emotions at bay.

No. 

Instead, you see the tiny, scared boy who clings desperately to fleeting words of approval, and you look at that boy and wonder _"who made you this way?"_

A moot point.

The answer, like the problem, is indelibly carved into your soul.

* * *

Minsung has a willow tree sprouting from his hip, and Minsoo has never seen anything so disingenuous.

For all Minsung will say it's a symbol of strength and flexibility and permanence, Minsoo sees it for what it really is - the weeping tree of mourning. Mourning of a lost brother, mourning of missed opportunities, mourning of the cold heart of its owner, and yet Minsung's blind to see it, blinded by the dizzying web of roots wrapping around his thigh and the branches roaming across his chest.

Ophelia fell off a willow tree, Dongho tells him, something sad flickering in his eyes. Ophelia fell off a willow tree, and her brother went mad from grief.

It's only fitting, then, that it would fit Minsung.

And _oh_ , for as much as mad means crazy, they both went mad in a sense - Minsoo with fury, and Minsung with some undefinable thing that twisted him into a distant memory of the brother Minsoo once knew - and Minsoo's left struggling, trying to figure out who's Ophelia and who's Laertes.

"I don't understand," he once told Dongho, and his friend (always friend, nothing more) stared at him, gaze dull.

"Ophelia went mad from grief and drowned," he states, "though it can be argued she went mad from love as well."

And in that moment, Minsoo understands.

He's always been Ophelia in this story. 

"I won't kill your dad," Dongho quips, and Minsoo laughs, a bit harsh, a bit brittle even as the terrifying water of _what if_ fills his lungs.

"You'd make a pretty shit Hamlet, hyung."

(oh, it's so self-absorbed to interpret minsung's mark that way - that way when it's always been about minsung's strength and flexibility and adaptability - but minsoo feels like ophelia and juliet all at the same time, and it remains to be seen if dongho is hamlet or romeo.

either way, it's a fool's thesis.

dongho never loved him.)

"Says the shrimp."

"Wha- just because you can pull off the tall, dark, and brooding doesn't mean you're _Hamlet_!"

"I wouldn't want to be."

Minsoo slides over to sit next to him, staring at the words written in a language he can't read. There's something to be said about Dongho reading these - reading them in _English_ , no less - and were Minsoo's feelings anything but romantic, he'd be impressed.

As it is, he's smitten.

"Do you think Ophelia loved Hamlet?"

"I like to imagine so," Dongho replies, gaze fixed, unmoving, on the pages. "Call me a romantic."

(hamlet helped drive ophelia to madness, minsoo knows, and _oh_ , dongho's pushing him that way.)

* * *

When Jaewon has a sasaeng, they plan a sleepover.

The three of them - Jaewon, Minsoo, and Daehyun - camp out together at his house, all three of them cramming into the tiny twin bed with Jaewon at the center, and it's a dizzying array of _whiteredgold_ splayed over the pillow, and _oh_ , Jaewon never wants this to change.

For a time, it doesn't matter that there's someone else in his house. 

After all-

Minsoo and Daehyun are there.

But she comes out, tries to stab Minsoo in the middle of the night, and he kicks her in the face before dragging Jaewon and Daehyun to the bathroom, the three of them lit only by the faint light of the moon, and he locks the door and slumps against it, breathing coming in quick gasps.

Daehyun curls into Jaewon's side, pressing his nose into the eldest's hair, and Jaewon stares at the door, catatonic.

"I'm calling Dongho-hyung," Minsoo whispers, barely audible over the sasaeng's shrieks, and Daehyun nods, pulling Jaewon into his chest and tracing the branches that spill over his shoulders.

Jaewon doesn't respond - doesn't move save for the rise and fall of his chest - and Daehyun pushes his hair back from his face, places kisses along the line of his throat, tries to show Jaewon _he is loved_ but the woman's shrieks _don't die down_ , no matter how much he wishes they would.

" _Wyld!_ " she shrieks, a sickening loop of obsession and depravity. " _I love you!_ "

Daehyun presses his hands over Jaewon's ears, trying to hide the way he himself is shaking. "Don't listen to her, hyung."

" _I love you, Wyld!_ "

"He'll be here in two minutes," Minsoo states, clicking off his phone, and Daehyun stares at him, somewhat bewildered. "Yeah - apparently he had a bad feeling or something, so he was coming over anyways?"

Weird.

But Jaewon's trembling like a leaf, tears leaking from his eyes, so they have bigger problems than whatever the fuck Dongho is or isn't up to.

They can tell the exact moment he arrives - the door swings open, and the sasaeng shrieks, reminiscent of the Wicked Witch of the West under water. A thud rings through the space, and Jaewon chokes on a sob, hands flying up to cover his mouth, and _god_ , he looks so scared-

"This is so pathetic," he whispers, voice barely audible over the sound of shattering glass. "I should've- I should've been able to do something, should've been able to resolve this without anyone getting hurt-"

A second thud rings through the space, and Daehyun shakes his head, tightening his grip on the redhead. "You did nothing wrong."

"Exactly," Jaewon bitterly replies, voice laced with self-loathing. "I did nothing."

A knock rings through the air, and Minsoo grins, bolting to his feet. 

"Who is it?"

"A knock-knock joke?" Dongho dryly replies, and Minsoo pulls open the door, letting the elder man enter the bathroom. "You're going to subject me to your sense of humor at two in the morning?"

"Hyung," Jaewon whispers, barely able to believe his eyes. "Why-"

"The police are on their way," Dongho states, leaning over to flick on the overhead lights. "Is everyone okay?"

"Yeah," Daehyun murmurs, and Dongho nods, reaching up to rub his eyes.

"Nn. Good."

It's clear that Dongho was sleeping - his dark hair sticks up in odd places, and his oversized sleep-shirt falls off one shoulder, revealing a patch of off-color skin. And-

"What is that?"

"What's what?"

"That," Minsoo states, leaning over to poke Dongho's shoulder. "Did you get in an accident or something?"

"...tch. Didn't anyone ever teach you not to be so rude?"

"Wha- I was just asking!"

"Don't," Dongho simply states, tugging his shirt over his shoulder. "Let's go."

"Wha- where?" Minsoo stammers, and Dongho rolls his eyes.

"To my place. Where else?"

* * *

When Minsoo wakes up, Dongho's on the phone.

He untangles himself from Jaewon and Daehyun and sneaks out the door, pressing his back to the wood as he tries to pick up on whatever Dongho's saying.

"Look," the elder states, and _god_ , he's stunning - backlit by the rising sun as his dark hair flows around his face in messy waves - "it has nothing to do with that."

And _wow_ , Minsoo should be listening.

A pause. "No, why-"

Another pause.

"I know."

Yet another pause, and Dongho frowns, staring out at the bustling city stories below. 

"You're sleeping with Sanghoon-ssi."

Somehow, Minsoo feels like he shouldn't be listening to this.

"No, this has nothing to do with- _why do you always think that_? I'm telling you they're staying at my place."

Dongho rakes a hand through his hair, a soft sigh escaping his lips. "Goodbye, eomma."

Minsoo presses himself flat against the wall, breathing quick as he processes what he just heard. 

Dongho's hiding something.

And _god_ , he's known that for a _long_ time - known it from the way Dongho looks at them, looking somewhere between fear and regret - but he never expected (wanted) to see it confirmed like this. 

What could he be hiding that's too bad to tell them about?

His mind races as he tip-toes back to Daehyun and Jaewon, crimson light from the rising sun spilling through the windows, and he reaches up to rub the branches curling over his shoulder on instinct.

God, what a mistake it was - falling for someone without a mark. 

But-

 _mark_.

What if it's his soulmark?

He said he didn't have one, but could he have been lying? Maybe whatever his soulmark is is something too painful to talk about.

Maybe his soulmate is dead.

Yes, Minsoo thinks, that would explain not wanting to talk about it. But then again, Dongho's reticent at the best of times, never opening up about himself unless the situation absolutely demands it, so going that route has about as much evidence as, oh, Dongho somehow being the soulmate of the president.

Or he's telling the _truth_ , which, really, has the _most_ evidence, considering Dongho doesn't lie (at least, not as much as jaewon, but that's a low bar). Still - Minsoo likes to think Dongho's an honest person, so it makes the most sense for this to not be something involving soulmates at _all_.

( _"the world doesn't revolve around your interests,"_ his mother once said, and that's something minsoo tends to forget.)

And yet- call it a gut feeling, but Minsoo _knows_ whatever Dongho's hiding has something to do with the scar on his shoulder. There's just no other explanation.

(or so he thinks - bending the world to his expectations once again.

god, they would all be so ashamed of him.)

* * *

The makeup artist clucks her tongue as she applies the stage paint to Jaewon's shoulder, irritation bleeding through in the rough strokes of her brush.

"It _had_ to be this big, huh?"

The urge to apologize for his entire existence crawls up Jaewon's throat, but he swallows it, offering her a kind smile instead.

"I'm sorry, noona."

"Hm," the woman mutters, brushing concealer over his shoulder, and _god_ , what led to this?

What led to Jaewon - someone completely unremarkable, someone with no talents or skills to think of in the _slightest_ \- winding up here? What led to the change from black to red, from nobody to somebody?

Necessity.

There really isn't another answer for it.

Jaewon stares at himself in the mirror - eyeliner ringing dull eyes, limp hair hanging over his forehead, the branches of his soulmark covered with paint, and _if only it were that easy_ to thwart fate, if only soulmates could be rejected with art supplies and wishes - and smiles, genuine to everyone except those who know to look deeper. 

Because the truth is-

he _doesn't deserve Daehyun and Minsoo_.

This is a fact he's known ever since he met them - ever since Daehyun blinded him and Minsoo sent him reeling. He doesn't know what deity blessed him with them, but _god_ does he want to know why, because he can't think of a single reason he deserves them.

They don't deserve to be shackled to Wyld. 

It would be easier, he thinks, if Dongho had his mark. Then Minsoo and Daehyun would be happy (happier than with him, the demons hiss, nails digging into his mind and chest and _twisting twisting twisting_ ) and Jaewon wouldn't be dragging them down.

" _Hyung_ ," Daehyun whines, pressing a kiss to his neck despite the furious cries of two stylists, "Minsoo-hyung won't acknowledge that _DR3AMERS_ is a _masterpiece_ -"

"How did you even _pronounce that?_ "

"-just because it's by _SA1NT_!"

"It's not _just_ because it's by SA1NT," Minsoo huffs, glaring at his reflection from the chair next to Jaewon. "It's because of the _instrumentation_ \- and I can be as spiteful as I want!"

"Not when you're wrong," Daehyun simply states, and Minsoo squawks, offended.

"Hyung! Tell him I can be as spiteful as I want!"

Dongho, currently the only one actually listening to the stylists, shoots Minsoo a scathing glare that's clearly a substitute for _shut up_.

Unfortunately, Minsoo missed the memo.

" _Hyung_ ," Minsoo whines, lower lip jutting out in a pout as the stylist sprays his hair. " _Hyung-ie_ , aren't you gonna take my side?"

"Brat," Dongho simply replies, and Minsoo winks at him.

"Takes one to know one!"

Dongho stares at him, unimpressed, and Minsoo winks at him once more.

"...right."

"So, are you gonna take my side?"

"No."

" _Wha_ -"

* * *

Dongho's hiding something.

Where once conversation flowed easily, it now stagnates in strange places - odd topics, things that dance close to chasms hidden under leaves - and Dongho shuts them down with the ruthless efficiency of a businessman's son, all work and no bluster.

For one trying to gather information, it's a bit irritating. 

Unfortunately, that's exactly what Minsoo's trying to do. 

Dongho dances around questioning like he flirts with the truth, walking right up to the precipice before redirecting in a swoop that leaves someone or something reeling, and Minsoo _hates_ that it's a talent, _hates_ that Dongho's so damn good at deflecting, _hates hates hates_ that he doesn't understand why Dongho refuses to talk about the scar on his back.

What secrets could it hide that would be worth this cost?

And yet he lets sleeping secrets lie when images of Jaewon's soulmark surface and the news turns _feral_ , hundreds of reporters clamoring for an interview, an exclusive, _anything_ , and Minsoo hates how this mark that was once _theirs_ is now _everyone's_.

Hates how something that was once so firmly _Jaewon_ is now _Wyld_.

And it's a distinction he doesn't expect many to understand - the difference between Jaewon and Wyld - but it's _so important_ to him, to Daehyun, to _Jaewon_ , that he could never forget it.

 _Oh_ , Dongho's hiding something, but as long as those secrets are benign, they make no difference - not when Jaewon's hurting _now_.

So he puts his investigation on hold, buys some ice cream and cookies, and wraps Jaewon up in blankets while they watch sweet movies and eat sweet things, and yet none of it is as sweet as the man next to him. 

_"I love you,"_ he whispers that night, Jaewon's face lit by the television and cookie crumbs lingering on his lips. _"Wyld or Jaewon."_

 _"That's a mistake,"_ Jaewon replies, and Minsoo shakes his head.

_"Loving you could never be a mistake."_

From the way Jaewon smiles, he doesn't believe it.

* * *

If someone ever told Dongho he'd be lost like this, he'd've never believed it.

He _knows_ reversing the procedure is impossible, _knows_ he's never going to be able to love them the way he needs to, and a part of him naively thought he'd accepted that.

What a fool he was.

"Ophelia," he names himself, brushing his fingers over the jagged remains of his mirror. 

( _"i'm somewhat of a romantic, myself."_ )

"...or perhaps Juliet?"

In truth, this is less romance and more self-flagellation.

There's no option for them - no way for him to have what he so desperately wants. 

No way for three to become four.

Three primary colors, three points on a triangle, _three is stronger than four_ , and perhaps, Dongho thinks, it's better that way.

Better to have never known what he could have than this - this endless, broken purgatory, so close to what he most desires but _oh so far_ at the same time, and if this is torture, then Dongho would he hard-pressed to find anything worse. 

Because he _loves them_ \- as much as the acknowledgement burns his throat - and it feels as though it's slowly killing him.

"Weak," he whispers, staring at his broken reflection. "Too weak."

Too weak to stand up to his parents, too weak to go behind their back, too weak to _stop being a fucking coward_ -

He hates having things out of his control, hates not having a handle on his feelings, _hates hates hates_ this vulnerability that permeates him like he's diamond, ready to shatter with just the lightest bit of force. 

He hates his reflection most of all.

"Tell them the truth," he murmurs, voice loud in the quiet room. "They deserve to know the truth."

He never has been good at taking his own advice.

* * *

"Hyung!"

Daehyun launches forwards to grab Dongho's wrist, and the eldest barely has time to protest before he's being yanked into the kitchen, Daehyun shoving a bowl and spatula in his hands before he can refuse.

"I'm doing a live for MAYNIACS!" he enthuses, and Dongho's lips curl into a soft smile upon seeing Daehyun's supernova grin. 

(daehyun exudes light simply by existing - a sun never hidden by clouds - but when he smiles like this, it's like comparing mud to a supernova. not only is it an unfair comparison, but they're in completely different leagues.)

"See? Doesn't he have a cute smile?"

"What do you want me to do with this bowl?" Dongho asks, pulling his lips back into a natural scowl.

"Stir it!" Daehyun beams, and Dongho stares at the spatula, visibly unimpressed. "Wha- have you never stirred anything with a spatula before?"

"The company is going to kill you," Dongho points out in lieu of an answer, and Daehyun shrugs, moving behind Dongho to place a hand on top of his. 

"Nah. I'm too cute. Now! Do what I do!"

Dongho watches, amusement creeping in, as Daehyun stirs the bowl with exaggerated motions, clearly attempting to be instructional but only succeeding in splattering butter all over his face and hands. It's especially obvious in the bright kitchen, and Dongho hides a grin behind his hands under the guise of wiping off excess batter.

"Like that!" Daehyun grins, placing the bowl on the counter. "Wha- what happened to you?"

Dongho pushes a batter-soaked lock of hair out of his face and opts for the time-honored tradition of shutting the fuck up. 

"Let me get you a towel," Daehyun mumbles, rooting through the kitchen in search of a single towel. "Pots, pots, pots, spices, spices, pans, colanders- _why do you have an entire cabinet just for colanders, hyung_?"

"What's a colander?"

"The drainy bowl with holes in it!"

"...thanks, Dae-yah."

"How can I not find a towel?" Daehyun sighs, and Dongho quirks a brow, picking up the bowl and stirring once more.

"It's not that much."

"Hyung, you look like you just got blond highlights."

"Not that much."

Daehyun darts forwards to grab the bowl, and Dongho takes a step back as the younger man grabs a measuring cup and scoops up a quarter-cup of the batter. "Dae-"

It's too late.

Dongho winces as Daehyun upends the cup, spilling batter all over his head. It rolls down his cheeks, drips off his hair, and a small drop lands on his lips, where he cheerfully licks it up. 

"What is this?" Minsoo shouts from the other room, and Daehyun giggles, pushing his hair back with one hand. Batter sprays all over the cabinets, and Dongho sends a silent apology to whoever has to clean it up later before noticing the grin that's creeped, unbidden, onto his lips.

Dammit.

"Ah, cute smile!" Daehyun beams, leaning in to poke Dongho's cheeks. The elder scowls, and Daehyun's expression falls as he pulls back, hands falling to his side.

What happened?

Well - Dongho knows what happened. What he _doesn't_ understand is that reaction.

It seems out of character for Daehyun to react like that - especially to Dongho.

"What are you guys doing?"

And like the flick of a switch, Daehyun's smile returns as he wheels to greet the new arrival. "Jaewon-hyung!"

"Ah, Wyld-hyung," Jaewon corrects, gaze landing on the camera sitting on the counter. "You're cooking?"

"Trying to," Dongho replies, gesturing to the bowl of batter. "We got distracted."

"Distracted by my amazing comments?" Minsoo beams, sauntering in to throw an arm over Jaewon's shoulders. "Or distracted by batter?"

"You know the answer," Daehyun teases, and Minsoo winks at him. 

"I'll go find some towels," Dongho states, and Daehyun reaches out to grab his sleeve. 

"Stay!"

There's a long moment where nobody moves.

Dongho stares at him, bewildered, and Daehyun slowly loosens his grip, lips curling into a sheepish smile.

"I mean... I want you to stay. Please."

"I'll go grab towels," Jaewon volunteers, and Dongho stares at Daehyun, stunned silent.

Why?

"...your jacket's slipping," he states instead, and Daehyun yelps, pulling it back over his shoulder. 

"Ah... thanks, hyung."

Somehow, he feels like he's making all the wrong choices. 

* * *

"Master Dongho?"

Dongho blinks, raising his head to stare at Jeongmin - and it feels more natural this way, looking _up_ , because ever since it's become looking _down_ , Dongho feels a sense of incorrectness. He shouldn't be looking _down_ at silver hair, shouldn't be looking _down_ at the finely-pressed suit and calloused hands, he should be looking _up_. Up into warm eyes, up into fleeting smiles, up into _family_. "Hm?"

"Is everything alright."

Dongho dips his head, grip tightening around his glass. 

"...can I ask your opinion on something?"

"Any time."

"If... if I found my soulmates," he starts, gaze falling to the glass in front of him, "but telling them meant my parents would completely cut me off... what should I do?"

He's well aware he sounds like a child, because _this is a decision he should be able to make_ , but he wants affirmation for the choice nipping at his heels.

( _stop hiding things_ , a voice that sounds suspiciously like minsoo chastises. _the truth is always better than a lie_.)

And, well, that's not true in the slightest - especially not when the truth costs this much - but it's a sacrifice Dongho's willing to make.

He just wants someone to tell him this is okay to do, and who better than the man who's been more of a father to him than his biological one?

A hand falls on his shoulder, and he flinches, turning to stare into Jeongmin's eyes. 

"What I want is for you to be happy," the butler states, and-

has he ever heard that before?

He wracks his mind, trying to pull something out of the ether, but he _can't remember hearing that before_. 

Hm. That's kinda sad.

Logically, he's aware his parents aren't exactly the lovey-dovey type, but emotionally, a small, infantile part of him wishes they were.

Which is stupid. He had everything he needed as a child and more, so really he's just being ungrateful. 

(and yet- hearing him makes something thrum in his chest. he's not sure what name to give it, but he feels it nonetheless.)

"Is it those boys you brought home?"

Dongho dips his head in silent agreement, and Jeongmin gestures to the chair across from him.

"May I?"

"Yeah."

Jeongmin slides into the chair with all the grace of a butler, and Dongho stares back down at his glass, thoughts whirling in his mind.

"Are you happy with them, Master Dongho?"

Dongho nods, and Jeongmin nods in response.

"As your parents' employee, I should not be saying this, but if you are happiest with them, then I believe that is where you should be."

( _"this will ruin us."_ )

"What if the news comes out?"

Dongho stares at his hands, longing mingling with grim acknowledgement. "If anyone finds out, the family will be ruined. I owe it to them to keep this secret."

"I want you to be happy," Jeongmin repeats, and Dongho doesn't reply. "Do not throw your own happiness away for theirs."

It's a highly unorthodox statement-

but Jeongmin's been with Dongho for _years_.

He was there when Dongho was three and chubby-cheeked, there at five when smiles were free and plentiful, there at nine when he started to dance, there at eleven when his piano skills grew enough for a small recital, there at fifteen and teaching him to shave, there at nineteen for his graduation, and there at twenty-two when he came back from the clinic with his mother, heartbreak evident.

Dongho isn't just a job to him.

Hasn't been for a long time.

"Thank you," Dongho murmurs, gaze boring into his reflection. 

"They're good people," Jeongmin adds, and Dongho nods, quick and jerky. 

"...I know."

Jeongmin can see the conflicts warring in his eyes - his duty to his family versus his own desires - and he desperately hopes that for once in his life, he'll put the latter first.

After all-

he's never seen Dongho smile as much as when he's with those boys.

(a part of him fears that's his fault - he's not free with his smiles, nor is he the father dongho deserved, but he tried, and he can only hope that's enough.)

"...thank you, Jeongmin."

"Of course."

* * *

He had a plan, actually.

He was going to talk to Minsoo first - the best listener of the group - and try and string tangled-up apologies and explanations and excuses into something that could somewhat resemble a decent relationship (not one built on lies, deception, _all dongho's fault_ ) and Minsoo would listen, would have a good reaction, or so he dared to hope, and then things could be somewhat okay.

He didn't intend for things to go like this.

Minsoo stares at his back - or rather, at the pale starburst that covers the entire right side - and his gaze slides to Dongho's face, pain flickering in his eyes.

"Why?"

Dongho's tee slips from numb fingers and pools around his feet, its owner rendered speechless.

And _oh_ , Minsoo's standing there, looking so vulnerable and desperate and _so, so heartbroken_ like he's just seen Dongho die in front of him - and in a way, Dongho darkly supposes, he has, years of trust and friendship and pining crumbling in front of them like sand soaked in water - and for a moment, his mind draws the darkest comparison between Juliet and Romeo, which is not only idiotic but also _incorrect_ , considering whatever they had - this strange flirtship they've held onto so desperately - is crumbling into nothingness.

"Why?" Minsoo repeats, and _of course_ he knows what removed soulmarks look like, _of course_ he knows it's in the same place, _of course_ he's recontexualizing their every conversation to make space for this jagged knife of betrayal, and it _aches_ because _this is all Dongho's fault_.

"It's not you," he helplessly states, and it's a paltry excuse for an excuse. 

They both know it. 

"How can it not be?"

"I had to," he states, and his heart _howls_ , the knowledge that _this cannot be fixed_ gnawing at him like the life-destroying monster it is. "My mom- she said it was for the family-"

"And you chose her?"

"I didn't _know you_ ," Dongho tries to explain, heart torn in twenty places and drowning like the mad Ophelia. "It _wasn't you_ -"

"Were you ever going to tell me?"

"I _was_ ," Dongho all but begs, gaze inexorably drawn to the jagged remains of his mirror. "I _was_ , Minsoo-yah, please believe that-"

"How can I?"

Minsoo shakes his head, pain reflecting in his eyes. "You _lied to me_ , hyung! You lied to me for _years_!"

"I know," Dongho replies, feeling those knots of apologies and explanations and excuses clog his throat. "I know, Minsoo-yah."

"Then _why_?"

And _oh_ , Minsoo can't understand this. He can't understand this - Dongho's slave-like loyalty to his family - because Minsoo exists independent of the Lees, while Dongho's a slave to his name. 

"They said it would ruin them," and it's a flimsy excuse, weak and wanting. "They said- _I had to_. They gave me everything-"

"Because you never gave _us_ a chance!"

"There _wasn't an us_ ," Dongho pleads, hoping against all hope that Minsoo can understand the antithesis to his being. "There was just them and me, and I _had to_. I didn't have a _choice_ -"

"You _always had a choice_!"

And with that, hope shatters.

Ophelia gives up her mad song and slips into the pond, Juliet sees Romeo's corpse and downs a vial of poison. 

Minsoo doesn't understand.

"I need to be alone," Minsoo whispers, and Dongho can only stare, helpless, as he leaves - another friendship torn apart by a name.

* * *

When you are young, you have friends.

Friends at the dance studio, friends at piano practice - you _like people_ , as contrary as that seems - and your parents indulge it, though never encourage it.

Of course, it only lasts so long.

Sometimes they leave the first time they find out who your family is. Sometimes they leave after they've used you, only to proclaim they never really cared about you.

So over time, you stop trying.

People will always see your family before you, always see the shimmering strings before the puppet, and you can hardly blame them. 

It's all you can see when you look in the mirror, after all. 

You shed distractions and pour yourself into your passions, losing yourself among the mirrors and keys, because if you're _there_ , you're not your family, not a puppet, not anything but someone pursuing foolish dreams.

And your parents encourage it. Better this than socializing with _"common folk"_ , better to chase this in a futile attempt to make something of yourself than to bring shame to the family name.

After all, you are nothing more than a puppet - trotted out for party tricks and phony smiles, another conquest for your parents to enthuse over. 

_"Isn't he just the perfect son?"_

Every time they say it, you feel a little bit sicker.

You're _not perfect_. You love too many and express it too little, drowning yourself in books and music and mirrors as though that can carve the spilling basin you have in place of a heart just a little bit deeper.

Keep the lid on the kettle, as it were. 

But you are a party trick, a puppet held up with shimmering things, a toy for your parents to paint and repaint as they wish, and you are _not_ your own person.

You are your family name before you are your given one.

 _God_ , how foolish to think you could be anything else.

* * *

"Hyung?"

Jaewon jogs after Minsoo, halfway changed for bed - a jacket hangs off his shoulders as pajama pants brush his feet, and his hair's fallen out of any semblance of style - but Minsoo's walking with a purpose, and it's not one he'll be dissuaded from.

"Hyung, what-"

"He was lying," Minsoo hisses, teeth bared and pain flickering firelight-bright in his eyes. "He _lied_."

"Who lied?"

" _Dongho_ ," Minsoo spits, and Jaewon's _never_ heard that name tainted with venom before, _never_ heard it thrown out like a challenge instead of being gently handled. "He _lied_."

"What?"

"He's the fourth," Minsoo growls, and Jaewon forgets how to breathe. "He's the fourth, and he got it _removed_ , and he fucking _lied_ -"

But was it even a lie?

Slanted truth, really - because Dongho _doesn't_ have a soulmark. 

He did. 

But he doesn't.

And that-

that _stings_.

Minsoo storms off into the darkness, fury burning in his eyes and betrayal oil-slick and caustic on his lips, and Jaewon watches him go, a fresh wound carved into his chest.

* * *

Pain doesn't exist in a vacuum.

And _oh_ , there should be no sides to it - should be that everyone's hurt is equal - but the world doesn't work like that, and in the end, there's simply a despair lottery.

As much as Jaewon and Daehyun try to pretend it doesn't exist, it _does_ , and they have to pick a side of the line drawn in the sand - Minsoo or Dongho? Betrayal or grief?

The short answer is that it should be easy. It should be easy to pick a team, choose an injury, isolate it and say _this is who you should be comforting_ , but it _isn't_.

Because the question still remains - where does the fault lay?

With Dongho? With Minsoo? With Dongho's parents?

Neither of them are sure.

Still - they both desperately want to mend the gap, and hopefully get a full explanation.

But, of course, that's easier said than done.

So they divide and conquer. Daehyun goes to talk to Minsoo, and Jaewon goes to talk to Dongho, and he's-

he's _afraid_.

He's _afraid_ of how this conversation will go, _afraid_ of the circumstances, _afraid afraid afraid_ of all the unknowns in this situation. 

But his soulmates need him.

And Jaewon's always been someone to put them over his own comfort.

Dongho's playing the piano when he walks in, nearly every inch of skin covered in a strange sort of coping mechanism, and Jaewon lingers by the door, watching his fingers dance over the keys. It's a beautiful piece, and one he doesn't recognize - though that isn't surprising - and Dongho sways gently to the music, eyes shut as he plays the piece from memory.

It's beautiful - beautiful in the way everything about Dongho is beautiful - and there's an unearthly sort of grace that fills his every movement, making even the air itself feel like silk. It's _stunning_ , and _oh_ , how Jaewon hates to end it, but _god_ does he have to.

"Hyung?"

Dongho's fingers still, and a dark chord rings through the room - a terrifying precursor to the conversation ahead. He looks... _haunted_ , almost, like a composer of old chased by the ghosts of his mistakes.

"Hyung," Jaewon whispers, taking a step forwards (and it feels sacrilegious, taking a step into this room - this room lit by the sunset with the gossamer curtains and deep black piano, this room with someone as beautiful as dongho here, at home in a way jaewon's never truly seen him - as though he's sullying the very air with his presence) into the circular room. "Hyung, can I talk to you?"

"...sure."

There are no chairs in the room - it's a practice room - but Dongho slides over, gesturing to the space on the bench next to him.

"Sit."

Jaewon sits.

Dongho's wearing a turtleneck, dark fabric up to his chin, and Jaewon _knows_ it's so he can't see the scar spreading over his shoulder, but that doesn't make it easier to accept that it's there.

"Why..."

His words die in his throat, and Dongho stares at the keys, expression passionless.

It doesn't fit this room, Jaewon thinks - doesn't fit this room that's Dongho's safe place, that's the place where he feels most at home, because _passionless_ and _Dongho_ should _never_ be put in the same sentence, and yet-

and yet-

Dongho looks _passionless._

And that _scares him_.

"What happened, hyung?"

Dongho stares down at the keys, darkness swirling in his eyes, and Jaewon _aches_ to comfort him, to say _something_ that can make this better, but Dongho isn't Minsoo or Daehyun - doesn't appreciate comforting words the same way they do - so Jaewon says nothing.

"I got rid of my mark."

His voice is flat, dull, _empty_ , and Jaewon _doesn't understand_.

"Why?"

Dongho tilts his head, the setting sun casting rainbows in his hair, and his gaze slides across the keys before landing on Jaewon, apathy cruelly blanketing passion.

"I had to," he murmurs, voice toeing the line between a plea and a statement. "You don't understand."

"Then _make me understand_."

Jaewon lurches forwards to grasp his hand, fingers brushing over rough skin. " _Make me understand,_ hyung _._ _Please_."

"...my parents are well-off," Dongho starts, gaze falling back to the keys. "Well-known in the business world. My mother told me if I was allowed to keep my soulmark, it would ruin the family. And I owe them for _everything_ \- for this house, for the piano, for all the lessons they paid for - so I said yes. I owe them for _everything_."

He sounds-

 _desperate_ , almost.

it's not overt - more like a quiet undercurrent to his words - but Jaewon knows it's there. 

And somehow, he _gets it_.

If his mother begged him to have his soulmark removed, well-

he might not say _yes_ , but he would at least consider it. 

And for Dongho, it seems to be much the same, if not more so.

There's devotion there - the same kind of single-minded devotion he pours into his music and dancing - and Jaewon's never considered how dangerous it could be before now.

(never considered anyone could make dongho do anything, really.)

"...why didn't you tell us?"

That's the crux of the issue, isn't it?

The issue isn't that he got his soulmark removed - at least, not for Jaewon. No, he's hurt because Dongho _lied_.

"They said it wasn't the mark that was the point," Dongho murmurs, and Jaewon watches as his fingers twitch - a piece playing in his mind. "It was the number. Three. Not _proper_. Not for someone like me."

He sounds so _small_ \- and Jaewon _never_ would've associated that adjective with him - but _god_ , there's really no word for how he sounds other than _small_.

"I could be friends with them, but never anything more," Dongho continues, fingers ghosting over the keys. "Wanting, but not having. Desiring, but never attaining. It's perfect torture, but that didn't matter to them. They just wanted to keep up their reputation."

"Hyung..."

 _"Do you love us?"_ Jaewon almost says, though the words catch in his throat. _"_ _Can I kiss you?"_

"...do you really want this?"

"Does it matter?" Dongho murmurs, gaze pinned on the keys. "The chance is gone. My soulmark is gone."

"The chance isn't gone."

Dongho turns, and for a split second, Jaewon can see something terrifyingly _vulnerable_ in his eyes. "What?"

"It's not gone," Jaewon repeats, lips curling into a gentle smile. "It's just... been missing for a little while."

"Jae-"

"I like you, hyung."

They fall silent, and for a moment, the only thing Jaewon can hear is the distant cry of a bird.

"I'm hurt you lied to me," he continues, voice little more than a whisper, "but I understand why. And I really, really like you."

Dongho stares at him, stunned, and Jaewon smiles, staring at the sun-streaks painting Dongho's hands.

"Can I kiss you, hyung?"

Dongho nods, and Jaewon's grin widens as he leans forwards to capture Dongho in a kiss.

It feels like flying - feels like a part of him that was missing was just found - and he smiles upon feeling an arm wind around his waist, pulling him closer. They've both done this before, but with the setting sun, there's also a sense of rebirth, and that, more than anything, is what this moment is.

A new start.

Once Jaewon pulls away, he rests his forehead against Dongho's, and the elder smiles - gentle and loving. 

"You look nice."

"Thanks," Jaewon manages to reply, and Dongho pulls away, gesturing to the keys. 

"I was playing something, if you want to hear it."

It's not fair that _Dongho_ gets to be so composed, Jaewon privately thinks - but then again, he probably hasn't been pining after him since the day they met.

He nods, and Dongho's gaze falls to the keys, still troubled but slightly more at ease.

"Chopin's Raindrop Prelude," he states, and Jaewon smiles as he starts to play.

* * *

"You _kissed Dongho-hyung_?"

Daehyun stares at him, eyes comically wide, and Jaewon gives him a helpless sort of "what-can-you-do" gesture. 

"I mean, he liked it too, so-"

"I thought we were supposed to be mad at him!"

"He apologized! And looked really upset! And I can't stay mad at anyone!"

"You're too nice," Daehyun says to nobody in particular, gaze flitting to the roof. "Hm. Maybe I should talk to him?"

"Maybe we should _all_ talk to him," Jaewon points out, and someone "hmm"s contemplatively.

"Talk to who?"

Minsoo drapes himself over Jaewon's back, wet hair dripping on his shirt, and Jaewon shivers, eyes widening as Minsoo wraps his arms around his waist.

"Who're we talking to?"

"Dongho-hyung," Jaewon squeaks, and Minsoo scowls, pulling back to fold his arms over his chest. 

"Why?"

"Because he feels bad, and we like him, and if we talk about it, we can figure it out-"

"Jaewon kissed Dongho-hyung!" Daehyun pipes up, and Jaewon pales as Minsoo's eyes widen.

"You _what_?"

"Dae-"

"We're talking," Minsoo snaps, grasping Daehyun and Jaewon's wrists and hauling them out of the room. 

"Wha- hyung-"

"Put on clothes!" Daehyun yelps, and Minsoo shakes his head. 

"No time. We're talking _now_."

* * *

"Hyung!"

Dongho blinks, raising his head to meet-

Minsoo is naked.

 _What_.

"Why are you naked?" he chokes out, and Minsoo waves a hand in dismissal.

"Took a shower, no time for clothes. Not the point. We're talking!"

"Put on some clothes," Dongho states, chucking a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie in his direction.

"No! We're talking!"

"I don't talk to naked people."

Minsoo grumbles, but does as Dongho says.

Five minutes later, the four of them are sitting on the floor, Dongho across from Minsoo and Daehyun and Jaewon between them. Minsoo's practically swimming in Dongho's hoodie, his soulmark visible where it falls off his shoulder, and Dongho's pointedly avoiding looking at it, gaze distant and a frown on his lips.

"So," Jaewon starts, hands clenched in his lap, "we all know what's going on?"

"Yeah," Minsoo snipes, glaring at Dongho from behind his dripping bangs. "And I've heard his shit excuses already."

"I'm not asking for you to forgive me," Dongho points out, and Minsoo huffs. 

"Seems like you are."

" _Guys_ ," Daehyun cuts in, lips pursed in a frown. "Let's talk about our feelings, okay?"

"Ew," Minsoo mumbles, and Daehyun whacks him. 

"I'll start. I'm really upset you lied to us, hyung, even if I sorta get why you did it. I'm not... I'm not ready to forgive you just yet, but I think I will be, soon."

Dongho nods in silent acceptance, and Minsoo scowls.

"Daehyunnie tried to explain it to me, and I think I sorta get it, but I'm still really upset you lied. You lied to me for _years_ , hyung."

"I know," Dongho murmurs, and Minsoo sighs, gaze falling to his hands.

"...I wanna punch you, but I also wanna kiss you. It's a really confusing combination of emotions, y'know?"

"..."

"I need a bit of time," Minsoo murmurs, and Dongho nods. "But... I want this to work. I really do."

Dongho smiles, and Jaewon's never going to get used to that smile - that soft, gentle expression full of unchained love. "I can wait as long as it takes."

* * *

It does take time.

It takes time, and it takes talking, but eventually, they decide to give it a shot.

And it's _nice_.

Nights spent chattering in front of the television turn into living room sleepovers, or, more rarely, into Dongho carrying the rest of them to bed. Lonely nights are less lonely, the quiet less oppressive, and three turning to four feels _right_ in a way Jaewon never thought possible.

The first night the four of them share a bed, it's Dongho's, and they watch movies until they fall asleep, wrapped in each other's arms as the clock ticks from two to three.

It's a wonderful sight from the outside looking in - Minsoo's silver hair turned starlight-bright against the pillow, Daehyun's arms wrapped around his waist as the moonlight illuminates the planes of his face, Jaewon curled up in the center, a plushie in his arms, and Dongho on the other side, an arm around Jaewon's waist and dark hair mingling with Jaewon's crimson.

It's home in the purest sense possible.

Even if they're going to have to wake up the next morning and go to work, even if they won't make it back to bed until eleven or twelve, for these few, perfect hours, they're home.

Dongho's the first one to wake up the next morning, and he spends around fifteen minutes just lying there, relishing the feeling of company, before he crawls out of bed and heads to the bathroom.

He's in the middle of brushing his teeth when someone leans against his back, and he smiles, gaze flitting to the mirror.

Jaewon.

"Morning, hyung," Jaewon mumbles, mashing his cheek against Dongho's back. 

"Don't you need to shower?"

"Mm. Two seconds."

There's a long moment where they simply stand there, each basking in the relative silence, before Jaewon pulls back, patting Dongho's shoulder.

"Thanks hyung... hm?"

"Huh?"

Dongho spits his toothpaste into the sink before turning to face Jaewon, one brow arched in silent question. "What?"

"Mind if I-"

Jaewon hops on the rim of the sink, pushing up Dongho's sleeve, and the elder sighs, resigning himself to his fate.

"I thought this was just a Minsoo thing?"

"Hyung, look in the mirror."

Jaewon sounds... shocked.

It's that that has Dongho craning his neck to stare at his back, gaze drifting to his exposed shoulder.

"...what?"

If he squints, he can just _barely_ make out the outline of a crimson flower on his shoulder, and his blood runs cold as he realizes what this is.

_How?_

"How is this possible?" the redhead breathes, tracing the flower with shaking fingers. 

Dongho would really like to know the answer to that question, actually.

"I don't know," he helplessly replies, and Jaewon pushes up his shirt for a better vantage point. 

"I can barely see it," the younger man murmurs, tracing the pattern along Dongho's spine. "Should we tell the others?"

"Your _soulmark is coming back_?"

"I think they already know," Dongho quips, gaze flitting to the slack-jawed pair at the door.

Minsoo's leaning against the doorframe, hair sticking up in odd places and a bit of dried drool near the corner of his mouth. Next to him, Daehyun clings to a plushie, one leg of his pants bunched up around his knee and the other dragging on the floor.

Dongho thinks they look stunning, but he's admittedly biased.

"How?" Minsoo breathes, and Daehyun races over to ogle his back, mouth still hanging open. "How is this possible?"

"I don't know," Dongho murmurs, submitting to Daehyun's curious prodding. "I don't know."

* * *

"Come in, come in!"

Jaewon's mother has his smile, Daehyun realizes, watching as mother and son embrace. His mother's a smaller woman, hair pulled into a loose bun with free strands floating around her face, but as she darts forwards to wrap each member of MAYHEM in a hug, it's undeniable that it makes no difference in the force of her hugs.

(dongho's expression does a strange sort of flip when she does, and daehyun feels a little bad for him.)

"You're my son's soulmates?" she asks over dinner, and Minsoo nods, reaching over to ruffle Jaewon's hair.

"Yes, ma'am. I'm Lee Minsoo, the blond one is Kim Daehyun-"

"-hi!"

"-and tall, dark, and brooding is Kang Dongho."

Jaewon's mother stares at him for a moment before her eyes widen, and she turns to Jaewon, eyes wide. "You didn't tell me one of your soulmates was a _Kang_!"

"Um," Jaewon flails, and his mother continues to fret, staring at the table with wide eyes.

"I should've made something better, I'm so sorry-"

"It's lovely," Dongho cuts in, gentle smile on her lips, and Jaewon's mother stares at him for a moment before smiling herself.

"I'm so glad."

It's a lovely evening, culminating in the sharing of stories (and daehyun learns quite a few embarrasing stories, including but not limited to the time jaewon asked out a lesbian and the time minsoo broke a mirror attempting a flip) and Jaewon's mother seems to adore them, sending them home with boxes of food and a promise to return next month.

"She's kind," Dongho states, and Jaewon smiles, pulling the tupperware to his chest.

"She's my mom."

* * *

In hindsight, Dongho should've expected this to happen a lot sooner.

And yet, somehow, when he walks into his house to see his _parents_ standing in the living room, bags at their sides and twin expressions of disapproval on their face, he's genuinely taken aback.

His mother is as put-together as ever, silver-streaked hair twisted into a severe bun and dress pristine. Next to her, his father is perhaps even more so, salt-and-pepper hair impeccably gelled and suit finely-pressed.

Dongho, clad in nothing but his workout clothes, feels horribly underdressed.

"Dongho," his mother tsks, arms folded over her chest and jacket hanging off her shoulders. "No greeting for your parents?"

"Why are you here?"

"I heard you were living with your bandmates," his father states, and Dongho winces - he's as direct as ever. "Surely you know how this reflects on us."

"I-"

" _Hyung_..."

Dongho feels his blood run cold as Daehyun drapes himself over him, nose pressing into the cook of his neck. "Hyung~ _ie,_ what's wrong?"

"What is this?"

"Get out of here," Dongho all but begs, and Daehyun raises his head, something unfamiliar glinting flint-like in his eyes. 

"Who are you?"

He's not letting go of Dongho's waist. 

This isn't going to end well, he decides. 

"His parents," his mother states, with the exact tone and inflection of someone who's just seen something disgusting. "Who are _you_?"

"Don't," Dongho whispers, but Daehyun either doesn't hear him, or doesn't care.

Knowing Daehyun, it's the latter.

"His soulmate."

His father's face turns an impressive shade of puce, and Dongho holds his head high, Daehyun's hand slipping into his. "Is this true, Dongho?"

"Yes," Dongho simply replies, trying his damndest to keep his expression neutral. "Daehyun is one of my soulmates."

"How _dare you_!" his father shouts, and his mother places a warning hand on his shoulder as Dongho takes a step back. "You _disrespectful, impudent child_!"

"I'm twenty-eight," Dongho evenly replies, and his father's fury only mounts at that. "I'm not a child."

Somehow, Dongho feels like this is going to end poorly for him.

"As long as you live under _my roof_ , you respect _my rules_!"

"Jeonghoon," his mother warns, but his father's not listening.

"This will _ruin our family_!" he roars, taking a step forwards to tower over Dongho. "You _selfish child_!"

"Hey," Minsoo cuts in, placing a hand on Dongho's shoulder. "What's going on here?"

His father shoves Minsoo into the wall, and the leader lets out a small, pained noise that sends a twinge through Dongho's heart.

"Don't touch him."

"How _dare_ you talk back to me?"

His father's hand slams into Dongho's cheek, and his head whips to the side, cheek stinging from the force of the slap. 

"You are no son of mine!" the man shouts, and Dongho stares at the wall, gaze empty. "Get out of this house!"

"Jeonghoon!" his mother shouts, grasping his arm as if to stop him. 

And Dongho-

raises his head, staring his father dead in the eye. 

"You're not my father."

The room grinds to a halt.

"Real parents are there for their children," he states, expression empty. "Real parents wouldn't leave me alone for three hundred thirty days out of the year."

"Tch-!"

"I'm packing a bag, and I'm leaving," Dongho states, the words bitter on his tongue. "And after that, I hope to never see you again."

A hand clamps around his wrist, and his father looms over him, gaze dark.

"You _disgrateful brat_ -"

"Let him go," his mother murmurs.

His father whips around to stare at her, eyes wide.

"Mikyung-"

"Let him go," she repeats, vixen eyes fixed on Dongho's face.

"But-"

" _Let him go_ ," she repeats, voice cold as ice. 

His father lets go of his wrist, and Dongho reaches up to rub it, distrust mingling with betrayal in his eyes. 

"You have thirty minutes," he states, voice stone-cold. "After that, I never want to see you in this house again."

* * *

Their new dorm is nothing like Dongho's apartment.

It's small, with a small kitchen and two bedrooms - clearly not meant for more than two occupants. It's a little cramped, a little dusty, but none of them care.

After all-

it's home.

(after they make it big, the first thing minsoo does with his money is to commission a painting of their soulmark to put in their room - a massive black tree, with shimmering silver vines, ruby flowers, and golden leaves. dongho points out that it's not as if they could forget it, and minsoo shushes him, telling him it's the thought that counts.

it's lovely, and they know it.)

* * *

If someone were to tell Dongho seven years ago that he'd find his soulmates, he'd call them crazy.

And yet-

He's standing on-stage, tank-top clinging to his skin, and Minsoo's up at the front of the stage, hyping up the crowd with the type over over-the-top exuberance they all love. Jaewon's grinning at some fans in the corner of the stage, and Daehyun's leaning against his side, his arm slung over Dongho's shoulders and his mic pressing to the elder's lips.

"Anything you wanna say to MAYNIACs?" he shouts, and Dongho nods, gaze flickering to the thousands of shining lights in the stadium.

"Thank you all for supporting us as four. I hope you can continue to do so forever."

"We love you!" Minsoo shouts, pointing fingerguns at the crowd. "Thank you!"

"Love you!" Jaewon shouts, and Daehyun grabs Dongho's mic, pressing it to his lips.

"Love you, MAYNIACs!"

The three of them clamor around Dongho, and he's struck with the image of three overexcited puppies as Minsoo climbs onto his back, legs hooking around his waist.

"C'mon! Say it!"

"...I love you, MAYNIACs."

The stage is hot, and there's makeup caked on his face, but his soulmark shines under the stage lights while his soulmates clamor around him, and _god_ is Dongho happy.

**Author's Note:**

> and thus... my devotion to theatre-fan dongho continues
> 
> the quote is from romeo and juliet yet again
> 
> i read hamlet for this fic btw hahaha
> 
> this fic is a dumping ground for my dongho headcanons and i regret nothing except letting him hijack this gODDAMN FIC TOO-
> 
> fun fact this fic was supposed to end at the minsoo fight but minsoo decided to get really angry and that led to everything else
> 
> and the fic title is from two birds by regina spektor - a perfect song for this fic
> 
> [twit](https://twitter.com/i_was_human_) | [lit fic discord!](https://discord.gg/CNunB74)


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